Kid
by drama fixated
Summary: A kid. That was what she was. At least, that was what he was trying to, unsuccessfully, convince himself. Even if she was innocent and simple, that hadn't stopped him from falling in love with her. Sana x Akito


Disclaimer: Kodomo No Omocha's not mine – it's Miho Obana's. Only the fic's mine.

Author's Note: A sudden plot bunny that I just _had_ to write down. This is from Akito's POV.

- - -

A kid.

That was what she was.

A kid living in a fifteen year old girl's body.

That was all she ever would be.

Forever a kid – childish and innocent in all ways. Childish in behavior, innocent in reality. Naïve, completely moronic.

At least, that was what he was trying to, unsuccessfully, convince himself.

Childish, gullible and impulsive though she was, and jarringly cheerful and hyper – he still loved her for it, and more. When it came to her, he could ignore the faults of the world and just be . . . _okay_ with everything.

He exhaled exasperatedly. Even if she _was_ innocent and simple, that hadn't stopped him from falling in love with her. And the way she put other people's wants and needs – including his – before her own, made him marvel and scoff at her. Marvel because she was the only person besides Tsuyoshi who actually _cared_ a damn about him, and had done everything she could to help him. Who he was and how his life was now, had changed because of her - her and her crazy, impulsive kindness. Scoff because she was so damn generous and kind to everyone – and abandoned her own needs and health to care for someone else's.

He wasn't sure if it sickened him or not – but one thing for sure he knew, and that was the fact that she so freely gave, but never expected to receive anything in return. She was completely unselfish . . it amazed him. She didn't want anyone to worry about her, yet she worried about everyone. Including him.

He wanted to laugh at the irony of that thought. Even when she didn't want to cause anyone to worry about her, they did! It wasn't as if they could help it – it was that the girl might have thought she fooled everyone easily, but in truth, she only fooled a few – including herself. She really fooled herself too easily.

He frowned, a bittersweet memory forming in his mind. Places – objects – people – flew by him, and he knew only the solemn look on her face when she had been afraid that her mother would give her up to her birth mother – and then time sped by, to when she had gone through the Doll Syndrome, and was recovering from it. _Still _recovering from, he corrected himself.

And he knew in both memories, she had been trying to fool everyone with her acting and fake mask of a smile and a happy look to her eyes, to have them not know that she really _wasn_'_t _happy.

How he was able to pull back her façade of indifference, only the two of them knew. His life and the way he concealed his pain had helped him tell the difference between "true" pain and _real_ pain. Then – he smiled slightly at the memory – like a stoic kid who had never cried in real life, she had wept herself hoarse on his shoulder. That moment had made him think – truly _think_ about her. About how she was so strong, or tried to be, for everyone she loved, about her strength – he shook his head. She had to be one of the most amazing people he had ever known.

Now he wasn't so sure whether she _was_ a kid or not. Her eyes told him differently – they had another story to tell. They had proved his first illusion wrong – that she was a spoiled and bratty rich actress – and that she was a fake image of whom everyone wanted and thought her to be – a sickly sweet, deceiving girl.

But that illusion had been broken into pieces, too. Not that he minded. In fact, he was _glad_ that she wasn't spoiled or deceiving. She was herself – a spacey, hyper girl who loved to clunk people on the head with a rubber mallet, and that was all she needed to be.

And even though she acted before she thought, especially when she had given Aono the chick – a twitch came over his mouth at that – she was irreplaceable. And it was so like her to do something before thinking of the consequences of it. In some ways she was like a kid, but in others she was mature – she was like an adult. And her eyes had told him that.

So she wasn't a kid. So what _was_ she? The greatest thing to happen in his life – the one miracle or guardian angel he had never expected to find or to love? Or was she Kurata Sana, a girl who could love with everything she had and always thought of others before herself? Was she the rescuer of lost bitter souls like him?

She had taught him a lot about life . . what it truly was, and not what he knew and thought of it as. Life was a beautiful and harsh paradox – it was lovely most of the time, and when the painful moments started, all he could do was try to be strong and weather through them. Like her, he realized, he had to be strong . . or appear to be like it.

An image of his former self appeared before his eyes and he chuckled hollowly. How moody and cynical he had been then! It was so hard to believe . . but it was true.

And the fact that he had caused chaos to erupt in his sixth grade class, and the unfeeling, cold bully he had been . . he shook his head again. Thanks to her, his heart had healed and although he wasn't a bully, little remnants of his former self still were there in his heart and his soul. He was himself . . and that was all he needed to be. _No hiding under a tough mask required_, he thought with a cynical smile. _I harmed others_,_ I harmed myself_. His eyes grew serious at that fleeting thought.

He realized the enormous effects of his mistakes now – and he regretted them. Silently he promised to himself that for her, the one who had made him live again when once before he had longed desperately to die, that he wouldn't do them again. Only for her would he do that. And he had to smile again at how much she had changed him – and yet had not changed him.

A kid would definitely _not _do what she had done. He sighed, causing his bangs to fly up, and looked out his bedroom window. Soundlessly he remembered all the things she had done for him . . and the "little nothings" (so he thought) he had done for her. And he was content . . he couldn't be happier than he was right now. Except for whenever he was with her.

Shaking his head on what a mushy romantic he had become, he turned off his bedside light and sat there in the darkness, watching comets streak by and stars twinkling brightly. They reminded him of her eyes – always shining brightly with happiness and excitement. And what a time it was for him to wax poetic.

_I **really** need some sleep_, he thought, and snuggling into bed, he felt his eyes slowly close and an image of her to materialize in his mind. Feeling happiness stir within him, he drifted off into Good Sleep Land, and his last coherent thought was _She_'_s not a kid. She_'_s just Sana _– _my best friend and my life_.

And he smiled in his sleep.


End file.
